


My Mouth Can't Translate the Things my Heart Says

by everyshootingstar



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Fake AH Crew, Gen, Multi, Polyamory, Trans Jack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-12 18:29:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15345927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everyshootingstar/pseuds/everyshootingstar
Summary: 5 Times Geoff Fell Asleep + 1 Time Geoff is AwakeThere’s several universal constants within the crew, all of them boiling down to years upon years of working in close quarters, even before they were known as the most dangerous crew in all of Los Santos; so when Michael feels a weight against his shoulder, soft, rough snuffling in his ear, he barely blinks as he reaches across the back of the couch, pulling the blanket down over Geoff’s hunched form.





	My Mouth Can't Translate the Things my Heart Says

**Author's Note:**

> hello!!! this is...technically my first actual finished fic for AH, so uh, if I got any tags wrong or need to add any let me know? <3 
> 
> come find me on the [tumble and request fic if you want!](https://shdowhaus.tumblr.com) :') this idea came from a discussion with two v great people all centered around the headcanon that Geoff sleeps in the strangest places at the strangest times. 
> 
> 5 times + 1 fics aren't out of style, right ;;;;  
> (the title technically has nothing to do with the fic its just from [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NB6PIoxp4k8) which is my favorite song ever lmao)

There’s several universal constants within the crew, all of them boiling down to years upon years of working in close quarters, even before they were known as the most dangerous crew in all of Los Santos; so when Michael feels a weight against his shoulder, soft, rough snuffling in his ear, he barely blinks as he reaches across the back of the couch, pulling the blanket down over Geoff’s hunched form.

Geoff sleeps unlike anyone Michael’s ever met, and he’s met a lot of people in his thirty years—but no one could ever compare to one Geoff Ramsey, dropping off the second he’s closed his eyes.

( _I’m resting them, Michael,_ Geoff had _whined_ petulant, voice thick and heavy, when he brought it up once, jabbing Michael in the side before sinking back against the couch arm, drifting as soon as the back of his head had touched the cushion.)

It’s admirable, if not a little annoying, and there’s a whiteboard in an office turned conference room towards the back of the penthouse, a mysterious corner of the board taken up by tally marks—Gavin tells Geoff it’s just a count of all the blood they’d shed—but really, it’s a running bet on who’s found Geoff sleeping in odd places.

So far, Jack’s winning by about six, but then again, she’s _dating_ Geoff, so her results may be slightly skewed.

Either way, as far as Michael’s concerned, as long as Geoff doesn’t fall asleep during a job, he’s fine with playing babysitter to an adult man who can’t resist a cat nap.

-

Ryan’s not overly paranoid anymore; doesn’t have to be but coming back into the garage to find the car Geoff had taken out on some job hours ago still parked and running set every alarm bell off possible, stirring up old feelings of paranoia.

(Geoff had gotten back just as Ryan was leaving to go sniff out some gang members trying to stir up trouble by the docks, and Geoff had looked up at him, given him a salute as he passed before pressing his fingers between his eyes, a tell-tale sigh he was stressed.

Ryan had meant to stop, but Gavin’s intel told him he didn’t have much time to do anything but get in a car and go so he’d pushed forward, telling himself he’d check in on Geoff later.)

He carefully closed the door behind him, moving across the garage silently, hand resting on the hilt of a knife he’d hastily shoved into his jeans earlier.

Various scenarios ran through his mind, worry crawled up his spine, he would _tear down_ Los Santos if—

—there, in the driver’s seat, pushed back as far as it’d go, leaned back at an incline, sat Geoff, head tilted back, mouth open in a near silent snore.

Ryan felt himself deflate, hand falling away from the knife, and he caught himself before he pressed a hand to his face; not wanting to smear what was left of the face paint on his skin, he’ll have a talk with Geoff later about his narcoleptic tendencies and how they’re not good for an aging murderer’s heart.

Mentally, he adds a tally to the score he’s keeping in his head, and he’ll have to add another mark on the board when he gets Geoff situated. (Four, now he’s beating Gavin by one but still one below Michael and Jeremy who are tied at five.)

With a resigned sigh (resigned in the sense that he’ll probably end up getting face paint on Geoff’s shirt and Geoff will yell at him later), he pulls the door open and reaches across to turn the engine off, pulling Geoff’s keys out and pocketing them.

For the most part, Geoff isn’t heavy, compared to the minigun, he’s light, and so maneuvering him out of the car and comfortably into his arms isn’t all that complicated, and if he kicks the door closed, Geoff’ll never really _have_ to know.

Getting him up the stairs and out of the garage prove to be tricky because the staircase is narrow, and Geoff is tall, but he manages, and _thankfully_ someone had left the door cracked open so getting inside isn’t too hard.

His plans are simple, to drop Geoff off and then go and get cleaned up, he smells like a gun cabinet and sweat, neither of which are pleasant, but when he gets to the living room, he’s met with Jack’s incredibly judgmental eyes.

_Ryan_ , Jack says, and despite being one year older than her, he still feels somewhat nervous, _scolded_ even, but he hurries through, settling Geoff down onto the empty couch in the corner before pulling a knit blanket down across him.

_I found him in his car,_ He says, as if trying to convince Jack he didn’t do _anything_ to Geoff (and he didn’t, but Jack can be intimidating when it comes to people she loves, and Ryan’ll apologize a thousand times over if it means he stays on her good side), _He got back when I was leaving, came back, he was still there, and when I went to check for foul play, I found him in there, asleep._

Jack’s still watching him, suspicious, because it wouldn’t be the first time Ryan’s skewed a bet in his favor, but she doesn’t say anything else, lets him slink out of the room and towards the back office where he adds another tally by his name.

-

Though Lindsay and Trevor are technically the _heads_ (or co-heads, as Lindsay jokes, nudging Trevor in the side with a salacious wink) of the crew, Geoff is still a figure of importance, he stays out of a lot of the turf wars, choosing the jobs he feels best fit him, which is fine.

( _I’m getting older,_ Geoff had murmurs into Jack’s hair, _We all are, and we’d do with some fresh eyes calling the shots._

She’d hummed softly, fingers stroking Geoff’s beard, _I think you’re right,_ she’d murmured back, and Geoff’s arms tightened around her.)

But Jack’s under the opinion that Geoff works himself entirely too hard sometimes—and so when she goes up to his office, dinner in hand (because he’d been working on a casing job, mapping things out with Gavin and Matt, going over plans with Jeremy and Ryan meticulously, he’d forgotten to make time for food) she finds him with his cheek smashed against a stack of papers, ink transferred onto his skin in some places.

Luckily, Jeremy and Michael had made some sort of pasta stir fry that holds fine, tastes better when it’s cooled off, so she has no problem with setting the plate, covered, on a small table by the leather couch situated under one of the windows.

She disappears out of the room for a moment, grabbing the blanket from the couch in the living room (It was Gavin’s idea, a mere joke about how they should have a blanket at ready to cover Geoff up when he sleeps, because he gets _cold_ sometimes, and Gavin’s found him more than once sleeping on the couch, laptop open across his lap, _shivering_.) before heading back into the office, draping it over Geoff’s shoulders, smoothing out the wrinkles along his back.

Jack sighs and leans over, pressing a kiss into Geoff’s messy hair, a fond smile on her face, before she leaves the room to find Trevor, planning to work out how to take some of the stress off Geoff’s shoulders.

-

Sleep doesn’t come easy to him anymore, and while he’s envious that the others can sleep through the night (mostly) he’d never do something that’d disturb the others—which is why at three in the morning he finds himself leaving his bedroom, a book in hand, phone in the other, a pair of Bluetooth headphones around his neck.

He keeps his steps light, quiet, as he heads down to the living room; pausing at the door when he notices the lights turned down to only a soft glow, and by now, by _now_ he’s used to this sort of thing, and as he moves over to the couch, rounding one side, he shakes his head fondly.

Geoff, sprawled out on the large sofa, head propped up on one of the decorative pillows; a paperback book open, resting over his face.

In a way, Gavin envies Geoff’s ability to sleep; he’d probably been sleeping here for hours now, dozing off midbook (and Gavin knows his boss, his _friend_ of so many years now, he’ll start the whole book over in the morning), feet crossed at the ankle, fingers laced and resting across his stomach.

He looks comfortable, posture relaxed, and no doubt he looks _younger_ (if Gavin could see his face), because Gavin knows Geoff’s getting old, and while he likes to poke fun at Geoff for falling asleep _everywhere_ , it’s nice that he’s able to sleep in these odd places, in odd positions, that he’s allowed some sort of vulnerability.

Gavin places his own book (something both Geoff and Ryan had recommended numerous times) on the coffee table, along with his phone and grabs the blanket from its place on the back of the couch, draping it over Geoff’s sleeping form. He thinks about moving the book but decides against it.

Grabbing his own book and phone, he quickly turns the lights off before moving across the room, settling into an armchair in the corner by the window, a small lamp sitting on a side table casting enough light for him to read.

Even though he knows it’s unlikely for Geoff to be disturbed by the sound, he keeps his music, something lyric less and soft, on a low volume as he opens the book, settling in for another long and sleepless night.

-

When he’d joined the Fakes, walking in on Geoff _Kingpin_ Ramsey sleeping with a laptop open in his lap wasn’t something Jeremy had expected.

Neither had the other few times where he’d come in from a job to find Geoff _sleeping_ in the oddest places (quite memorably, at the bar in the kitchen, half eaten sandwich in his hand), but, like any good and reliable mercenary, he’d taken it in stride.

(After all, falling asleep? Happens to the best of people, and Jeremy can’t count on two hands how many times he’s fallen asleep somewhere odd.)

Besides, the penthouse is safe, so falling asleep isn’t really _that_ bad.

It’s sorta funny though, a bit endearing, to find his big bad boss, the guy who’d run with the best of them, catnapping in a patch of sun.

Which is exactly where he finds Geoff that afternoon, the sun high and warm in the sky—on the back of the penthouse is a gorgeous balcony and shoved into one of the corners is an old love seat, probably the only thing in the entire place that actually _looks_ old.

Jeremy finds him situated in one corner of the couch, feet propped up on a coffee table they’d moved out when Gavin brought in the fancy one for downstairs.

(Gavin’s unspoken rule about covering Geoff up when they find him ends up being null here, so he ignores the knee-jerk reaction to grab the designated _Geoff_ _Blanket_.)

He’d originally come up here for some time alone, but the couch looks warm, and he knows from experience it’s soft and comfortable, so he checks his phone for the time, moving across the balcony to ease himself down onto the other side of the couch, sinking back against it with a barely audible sigh.

It’s nice, he thinks distantly, the sun warm on his arms, planning to allow himself a short thirty-minute cat nap.

It’s not like Geoff’ll mind.

-

+1

The heist had gone _perfectly_ , absolutely _no issues_ whatsoever—not quite a rare occurrence, but Geoff always worries about those sorts of things. Any high stakes job tended to come with risks, so he worries, even when everyone’s at a safehouse; worries until everyone’s back _home_ and _safe_.

Geoff’s the last to return to the penthouse, ending up the furthest away with the most heat—he wants to keep his crew safe, so if spending eight hours holed up in a cabin in the mountains means the others can return home, he’ll do it in a heartbeat.

He lets himself in, the day finally catching up with his tired, old bones; the others have probably celebrated, gone to bed, but he’s surprised when he finds them all passed out in the living room, a plethora of takeout menus open on the coffee table, a plastic bag with a six pack of beer resting by the entertainment center.

Geoff feels an odd, surge of fondness for his crew, his _family_ —and well, he’s not stupid, knows what the tally marks on the board means, knows they’ve got a bet going of how many times they catch him sleeping around the penthouse; and just like that, he knows how careful they are, how much care they put into making sure he’s comfortable.

He’s quiet as he rids himself of his shoes and then he moves across to one of the loveseats, Ryan and Gavin leaning into each other—he nudges them gently, knows how little the two of them sleep.

_Geoff?_ Gavin’s voice is sleepy, slightly slurred, which means he _was_ sleeping, and Geoff feels bad only a little for disturbing him, _We were waiting up for you. Wanted to celebrate together. S’my idea._

Geoff gently ruffles Gavin’s hair, _Thanks Gavvers,_ he murmurs, _Why don’t you and Ryan head on up to the suite? We can celebrate once everyone’s awake tomorrow._

In a testament to how tired he is, Gavin doesn’t complain, just elbows Ryan, who grunts, and the two of them are up, heading towards the stairs.

Geoff cases the room, finding Jack napping in one of the chairs, and he’s immediately by her side, gently waking her with a kiss to her lips.

_Geoff?_ She whispers, _Is everything okay?_ Waking up now, blinking the sleep from her eyes, _What’s happened?_

_Nothing, nothing,_ he reassures quickly, reaching out to smooth his hand through her messy hair, _Just waking you up to send you off to bed. Gav and Ryan are already in the suite, head on up there?_

There’s a line across her cheek from where she’d been resting against a throw pillow, a white bandage across her eyebrow and dark circles under her eyes from sleepless nights of planning, but even then, she’s still the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.

_Alright,_ she eventually agrees quietly, reaching out and resting a warm hand against his cheek, _Come to bed soon?_

He smiles, turning his head to press a kiss to her palm, _Let me get those two in bed and I’ll be right there._

Jack hums, leaning in for a quick kiss and as Geoff steps back, she stands, gently nudging his shoulder as she passes.

Despite the urgency to get upstairs to bed, Geoff doesn’t rush when waking Michael up, gently nudging him and waiting for him to wake on his own, _Hey you, head on up to the suite, the others are already there._

Michael, an immovable object when sleeping, just grunts and gets up, mumbling out something that sounds like _don’t fall asleep on the couch, asshole_ as he heads out of the room like a comically tired zombie.

Geoff’s extra careful waking Jeremy, choosing not to touch him, instead, he sits beside him, murmuring his name until Jeremy groans out a _what_ that sounds suspiciously like a whine.

(Jeremy had mentioned once or twice that being woken up suddenly, being startled awake always left him in a weird mindset, and after one too many times of being shaken awake and shooed away by cops as a kid, he’d started getting _violent_ about it. So, Geoff doesn’t do that, won’t shake him awake, tries not to startle him in any way he can.)

_Hey buddy,_ Geoff murmurs, _I appreciate y’all waiting on me but why don’t you head up to the suite? Everyone else is already there_.

Jeremy’s eyes are only half open slits as he stares at Geoff, as if trying to figure out if he’s real or not. _We waited on you. Gav wanted to celebrate with you_.

Geoff smiles, _I know buddy,_ he says. _Celebrate tomorrow, okay? We’ll order a bunch of food and you can have all the booze you want._

A hum and then he’s heaving himself off the couch, taking a second to get his feet under him.

_You did good, Geoff_ , he says out loud to himself once he’s alone, _You did a damn good job_.

Geoff stands and gathers the menus up, placing them in a pile on the table and takes the six pack of beer to the kitchen to the refrigerator; he feels a little weird, like he’s got too much energy and no outlet—so he tidies the kitchen up, wiping down the counters and rewashing a glass he’d drank water out of this morning.

As he turns the light off in the kitchen, he feels the pull of sleep at the back of his mind, a low, soft lullaby calling for him.

The house is quiet now, all the lights out, everyone settled in bed; he pauses in the conference room for a moment before heading to the suite, fingers clumsily undoing the button on his jeans, letting them fall into a pile on the floor before he’s crawling into bed, the space between Michael and Jack left open for him.

_Geoff?_ Jack whispers, voice thick with sleep, and he shushes her, curling his arms around her and settling behind her, resting his head between her shoulder blades.

Sleep comes the easiest when he’s surrounded by those he loves.  

-

(The next day, Gavin wanders into the conference room looking for a stray cable he’d left in there and when he glances up at the board, he sees Geoff’s name scribbled under Jack’s and five tally marks out beside it.

He shakes his head in disbelief, pulls his phone out and snaps a picture, sending it to Michael and Jeremy immediately.

_What a knob_ , he says, scoffing.)


End file.
